


Eventually

by ominousunflower



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Ladynoir July, Ladynoir July 2020, Season 3 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:34:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25294018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ominousunflower/pseuds/ominousunflower
Summary: A few days after defeating Miracle Queen, Chat Noir and Ladybug have a much-needed talk.“Hold on,” Chat says. He playfully pokes Ladybug’s cheek, laughing as she grumbles at him. “Who said you have to have all the answers?”“No one, I guess,” Ladybug says. “It just feels like you and the others look to me as the leader.”“We do,” Chat admits. “But that doesn’t mean you need to have all the answers. I’m happy to provide a few, if you want.” He winks. “I’m at the top of my class, you know. Plenty of people would love to copy my homework.”
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 81
Kudos: 470





	Eventually

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Day 10 (Breakdown) and Day 13 (Cuddles) of Ladynoir July, though I ended up unintentionally including some other prompts as well. I hope y'all enjoy!
> 
> (Minor warning: There's a joke about hairballs that isn’t too detailed, but if the mention of hairballs makes you uncomfortable or anything...just a heads-up.)

“I can’t do this,” Ladybug says, the moment Chat Noir lands on the rooftop beside her.

Chat hesitates, fiddling with one of the zippers on his suit. He’d tried to comfort Ladybug once before, during the Miracle Queen fight a few days ago—but he doesn’t think his encouragement stuck. When they went their separate ways afterwards, Ladybug couldn’t hide the slight drag in her steps, or the slump lingering in her shoulders.

Now, Ladybug hugs her arms to herself, eyes narrowed, lips pressed into a thin line as she stares straight ahead. Sitting on the roof beside her is a familiar red sphere with black spots.

Chat waits, wondering if she’ll say anything else. Lately, he’s tried to follow her lead when it comes to their relationship: keeping his distance when she turns away, only touching her whenever she leans into his space. For once, though, he’s not sure what she’s signaling.

A sniffle, a quiet whimper—and then Ladybug buries her face in her hands and begins to sob.

Immediately, Chat drops to his knees beside Ladybug and pulls her into a hug. She turns and winds her arms around his back, pressing against him and squeezing him like a vice.

At first, her cries are wordless, but as the seconds pass, her sounds coalesce into one syllable: _Chat._ She clings to him and whispers his name, and it’s all Chat can do to embrace her just as tightly, his claws tangled in her hair.

He wants to kiss her head, the way his mother comforted him when he was younger, and murmur that he loves her, and hum a song for her—but he’s terrified to cross a line in such a fragile moment. And so he holds her, and does nothing more, and feels completely useless.

Ladybug keeps whispering his name, and each repetition pricks his heart more painfully. Chat holds her even tighter, eyes shut as tears pool in them. It’s excruciating, seeing her break down like this, after all the other times she stood tall against Le Papillon. Chat feels like he’s staring at a gruesome wound, even though there’s not a single scratch marring Ladybug’s skin.

“Chat, I can’t,” Ladybug finally says, her voice hoarse. “I need—I don’t know. It’s all so…” Her voice trembles on the last few words, and she trails off.

“I’m here,” Chat murmurs. “I’ll do whatever you need. I’m here.”

Ladybug doesn’t move, her face still pressed to Chat’s chest, her body warm against his. “You already do so much,” she says. “Y-you’ve _died_ for me. I can’t ask for more.”

“Of course you can,” Chat says, without stopping to consider whether that sounds pathetic. “Whatever you need, my lady. Whether it’s a kidney or a kiss—”

“No,” Ladybug says. She pulls back, her nose wrinkled. “Chat, you’re not giving me your kidney.”

Chat grins despite himself. “If you ever need one, you bet I am. We’re probably compatible, being yin and yang, and all. I’d be the perfect donor.”

Ladybug snorts. “I don’t think that’s how that works.”

“I think it is.” Chat leans forward, his nose nearly brushing against hers. _Too close,_ his brain whispers, and he pulls back slightly. “I’m good at science. I would know.”

Laughing, Ladybug swipes a hand across her face, clearing away some of the tear trails on her cheeks. Chat’s fingers twitch, longing to wipe away the rest. “How romantic,” Ladybug says drily. “Most boys offer chocolate and flowers, you know.”

Chat laughs, cheeks warming slightly. “I can offer those, too. But I didn’t think chocolates would get my point across.”

Ladybug smiles at him, and he thinks maybe he’s done a good job—but then her lip trembles, and her face scrunches up, and she slouches against him again.

“Oh, buguinette,” Chat breathes. “What is it? Did I say something?”

“You care about me so much,” Ladybug says.

It almost feels like an accusation.

Something cold slips through the warmth Chat feels, as if Ladybug has pressed a dagger between their joined chests. Ever since Ladybug told Chat that she loved another boy, he’s tried to back off and respect her boundaries—but has he not done enough? Did he still force his love on her, even after she asked him to stop? 

“Is—is that bad?” Chat asks. “I’m sorry, I…I’ve tried to keep my distance, and if it seems like I’ve been coming on to you, I swear—”

“No, no!” Ladybug says, her voice a bit wobbly. “It’s not bad. It’s—it’s good. I just don’t feel like I deserve it, when I’ve screwed everything up.” She curls in on herself, as if she’s trying to shrink to the size of the Miracle Box. “I don’t want to hear you tell me how wonderful I am when I’ve gotten so much _wrong.”_

“I won’t tell you, then,” Chat says. “But I’m still thinking it.”

Ladybug barks out a laugh. “I figured you’d say that.”

“Can’t stop me from loving you, my lady,” Chat says, smiling even as his heart crumbles a little more. He’s never heard his bug so down on herself. “Even on your bad days.”

“It’s not just a bad day,” Ladybug mutters. “I’m useless. I have no idea what to do. And I _know_ I’m supposed to have all the answers, and come up with a plan, but—”

“Hold on,” Chat says. He playfully pokes Ladybug’s cheek, laughing as she grumbles at him. “Who said you have to have all the answers?”

“No one, I guess,” Ladybug says. “It just feels like you and the others look to me as the leader.”

“We do,” Chat admits. “But that doesn’t mean you need to have all the answers. I’m happy to provide a few, if you want.” He winks. “I’m at the top of my class, you know. Plenty of people would love to copy my homework.”

Ladybug shakes against him with a laugh. “That may be, but this isn’t a math worksheet. It’s…” She pulls away to glance down at the Miracle Box beside her. “I don’t know how to deal with a responsibility this big. I can’t even wrap my mind around it.”

Chat follows her gaze to the box. In the heat of the battle, when Maître Fu named Ladybug the new Guardian, Chat hadn’t really processed the significance, either. It wasn’t until he got home that the questions started pummeling him. Would Le Papillon go after the other heroes, now that he knew their identities? Would Chat and Ladybug be able to protect them?

Chat’s heart twists at the thought of his friends getting hurt. So many heroes, all in the same social circle— _his_ circle—but he won’t let himself dwell on that right now.

And the biggest question, echoing over and over like the hollow voice of a gong: _What now?_

(There’s another question, of course, born the moment Maître Fu looked at Ladybug and Chat Noir with a blank stare—but Chat won’t let his mind go there right now.)

“I can’t wrap my mind around it, either,” Chat says. “It’s big, and scary, and I just keep thinking…I’m only fifteen.” He scoffs. “It’s stupid, isn’t it? After the battle, that’s what I kept saying to Plagg.” 

He remembers repeating the words, over and over, only for Plagg to say that age has never stopped Miraculous users in the past. And still, he said the words again, as if his age was somehow an argument that the universe would accept—as if it would hear his plea, and undo everything that’s happened in the past week.

Ladybug nods. “That’s how I feel. I haven’t said that to Tikki, but…” She sniffles again. “I’m only fourteen. I’m not even old enough to get a job, and I’m supposed to do all of this? It’s terrifying.”

“Well, there you go.” Chat shifts their position so that Ladybug’s back is propped against his chest, then circles his arms around her. “I’m just as confused as you are. We’re in this together, my lady.”

“Great,” Ladybug says. “So _both_ the heroes of Paris are hopelessly lost.”

“Not hopeless,” Chat says. He hesitates, then adds, “Not as long as I have you as my partner.”

The words are met with silence, and dread stirs in Chat’s stomach. He wonders if Ladybug feels the same way about him. Whenever a battle has gotten tough, or Chat has felt like despairing, he’s always taken solace in the fact that Ladybug is his partner—but maybe he doesn’t inspire her the way that she inspires him.

Chat bites his tongue, resisting the urge to take the words back. He doesn’t _think_ they’re overtly romantic, and he’s always prided himself on speaking from the heart.

“How do you say those things so easily?” Ladybug murmurs.

“Hm?” Chat tucks his chin against Ladybug’s shoulder. “I told you before. It’s easy to say the important things, because they need to be said.”

“I want to say it back, but it feels cheap.” Ladybug’s voice is so quiet that Chat can barely hear her, even with his ears so close to her lips. “You’ve always said things first, and then I think, if _I_ say the same, you’ll just…think I’m parroting.” One of her hands reaches down and takes Chat’s, sending a shiver across his skin. “And it’s scary. A different kind of scary, but…” She sighs. “It’s one of the things I hate about myself right now.”

“No,” Chat says, watching their interlocked hands. “You shouldn’t. I—I’m bad at showing my love in a way that matters. I try all these stupid gestures, and they blow up in my face, but you—you’re good at _showing_ it. You might hate that about yourself, but I love it.”

“How have I shown it?” Ladybug asks, and there’s an acidity in her voice that Chat has never heard before. “I brush you off, and turn you down, and—”

“You scratch my chin,” Chat says. As soon as the words are out, he feels like throwing himself off the rooftop. “I—I mean—”

“Oh, come on,” Ladybug says. The sharpness in her voice ebbs, replaced by disbelief. “That doesn’t count.”

“Yes, it does,” Chat says, cheeks burning in embarrassment. “Because I’m touch-starved, and you clearly know that, or else you wouldn’t make it a point to touch me so often. And even after the tabloids started speculating that we were dating—which I _know_ you hated—you kept doing it.”

With a mind of its own, his tail wraps around one of her legs, the buckle gleaming in the evening sunlight. Chat’s face burns even hotter, and he hopes Ladybug won’t notice.

Humming, she reaches down with her free hand, running her fingers across the metal. “I still don’t think that counts.”

“You bring me treats on patrol,” Chat says. “And you laugh at my jokes, even the bad ones.”

“Maybe I just think they’re funny.”

“You laughed when you fell on your butt and I asked if you hurt your _coccyx-inelle.”_

Ladybug laughs, the sound clear and pure in the air—and for a moment, Chat forgets that she was crying just minutes ago. “Maybe you have a point.”

“You know I do.” Chat almost, _almost_ kisses her cheek, but he reins himself in before he can make a mistake. “It’s okay if you don’t say things. I can figure it out.”

“Can you?” Ladybug asks, moving so that she can look up at Chat. This close, her blue eyes are overwhelming, and Chat feels his heartbeat speed up.

Then he chides himself for letting his heart feel romantic things, when he’s supposed to be focused on comforting her.

“Can I what?” Chat asks, his tongue moving slowly.

Ladybug presses her lips together, and her eyes dart away. “Were you really sure I loved you?”

Chat hesitates, because no, he wasn’t. So many nights, he’d lain awake and wondered if Ladybug even wanted to be his friend, or if he was just a partner she’d been stuck with. Every time she called in one of the other heroes, he wondered if she liked them better because she got to _choose_ them—if he was just a person who’d been foisted upon her, someone she never would have sought out on her own.

But then she’d tried to give Adrien a Miraculous, and as disastrously as that worked out…he thought that maybe she _did_ want to work with him.

Of course, that optimistic thought was quickly eaten up by insecurities. Because as far as Ladybug knew, Chat wasn’t Adrien. The fact that she trusted Adrien with a Miraculous—that said nothing about her relationship with Chat.

“No,” Chat confesses. “But maybe that was my own self-doubt.”

“Well, I do love you,” Ladybug says. “And I can’t do this without you.”

Chat blinks, stunned by her bluntness. Ladybug has never been one to beat around the bush—and yet, hearing her say the words with such conviction catches him off-guard.

He clears his throat, eyes stinging. “I guess it’s a good thing you don’t have to.”

After that, they’re both silent, and all Chat can think about is how Ladybug fits perfectly in his arms.

It’s stupid. He shouldn’t be hung up on that when she needs him to comfort her. What kind of partner is he, if he loses himself in romantic daydreams when he should be offering support?

“You know,” Chat says, “maybe it’s okay if we’re a little lost and confused.”

“People are counting on us,” Ladybug says. “We—we’re supposed to know what to do.”

“If there’s one thing being Chat Noir has taught me, it’s that I don’t need to be perfect all the time.” Chat smiles as Ladybug fiddles with his ring, her finger running over the neon green pawprints. “I think it’s okay if we don’t figure everything out right away.”

“Aren’t you worried that people will get hurt?”

“Of course,” Chat says. “But like I said, no one’s perfect. Not even me.” He laughs to himself. “Shocking, I know.”

There’s a pause, and then Ladybug says, “So you’re usually a perfectionist? That’s hard to imagine.”

“Oh.” Chat grimaces, relieved that Ladybug can’t see the look on his face. “Well, no. Or…only by necessity. But I’m not really in the mood to talk about strict parents and unrealistic expectations.”

He worries that Ladybug will push for answers, but she just nods. “Right. Maybe another time.”

“Really?” Chat blurts out. “Um, I mean—isn’t that the sort of thing we shouldn’t discuss? You know, personal lives, and secret identities…”

Ladybug twists around to face him, and one of her hands comes up to rest lightly on his shoulder. “When you think about it, we only have each other,” she says. “I mean, we can’t confide in our family and friends, and the other heroes…” Her expression darkens, but before Chat can find the words to reassure her, she shakes her head. “It’s just the two of us. And what’s the point of being partners, if we can’t talk to each other about our lives?”

Chat frowns, parsing through her words. “But…you’re not suggesting that we reveal our identities, right? Because that’s, um…”

He trails off, not sure how to finish that sentence. On one hand, he wants to remind her of the danger, and prove to her that he’s taken her concerns seriously. On the other—if she’s decided that they _should_ reveal themselves, he really doesn’t want to talk her out of it.

Ladybug doesn’t respond right away. Her eyes stare off into the distance, seeing past Chat, and her brow creases in thought. Once again, Chat resists the urge to brush her bangs aside and kiss her forehead.

“I don’t know,” Ladybug says. “That’s the thing. I don’t know anything. Was Maître Fu wrong, to have us hide our identities from each other? Or is that what experience taught him?”

 _Well, according to MY experience,_ Chat wants to say, _keeping my identity from you sucks._

“I don’t know, either,” Chat says. “You already know where I stand, though.”

“Le Papillon almost forced Maître Fu into revealing our identities,” Ladybug says. “I never want to be in that position. If I somehow caused you to get hurt, I couldn’t live with myself.” Her hand curls into a fist on top of his. “I already blame myself for what happened to Maître Fu. But something happening to _you_ …I’d never get over that.”

“Something could happen to me anyway,” Chat points out. “Our secret identities don’t make us invincible.” He gives in to the urge to touch, and gently tucks a hair behind Ladybug’s ear. “That said, I respect your decision.”

“It should be _our_ decision,” Ladybug says. “Shouldn’t it? We’re partners.”

“I’m…not sure we are,” Chat says. “You’re the Guardian now.”

“What?” Ladybug turns to face him completely, then shifts until she’s sitting between his outstretched legs, with her own bent on either side of his torso. Her knees nearly brush his chest, her calves pressing to his hips, and if Chat leaned forward just a bit, their noses would touch. “Of course you’re still my partner. Me being the Guardian doesn’t change that. Actually, I…I need you by my side more than ever, now.” 

“I’m here,” Chat says. He hesitates, then takes her hands from where they’re resting on her knees. “Like I said before, my lady. Whatever you need.”

“I don’t know yet,” Ladybug says. She gives Chat’s hands a light squeeze. “I’m still figuring out a plan. But knowing that I have you with me—that’s what I need right now.”

Chat contemplates their joined hands, black against red, ring beside spots. “I suppose the only question is…how often do you need me with you?”

“What do you mean?” Ladybug asks, head tilted to the side. “I mean, you know I’d have you with me all the time, if I could.”

“I’m asking about an identity reveal,” Chat murmurs. “Since it’s our decision, we should—we should talk through it, right?”

Suddenly, their little spot on the rooftop feels very alone, as if the city sounds are just noises from a television that’s been turned down. The twittering of birds fades, the rush of traffic is muted, and Chat can no longer hear the bits of sidewalk conversation that usually drift up from the ground below.

This is a big decision, and Ladybug is right: they only have each other.

“Right,” Ladybug says. “It’s just problem-solving, really.”

“Going to summon a Lucky Charm?” Chat teases.

“And put myself on a five-minute timer for this?” Ladybug asks, snorting. “No. But—okay.” She nods, mouth twisted in thought. “So, we’ve been partners this whole time without knowing each other’s identities. And that worked, right?”

“We had Maître Fu as a go-between,” Chat points out.

“Right.” Ladybug hums to herself. “Could we use kwamis?”

“Maybe.” Chat runs his thumb back and forth across Ladybug’s fingers. “I take it you’re leaning toward _no reveal,_ then?”

“I don’t know,” Ladybug says. “Honestly, my heart wants us to call off our transformations right now, so that I can have you with me even when I’m not transformed. The thought of going home by myself after this, and having to wait until our next patrol to see you…”

“But?” Chat prompts.

“But my head tells me not to endanger us unnecessarily. I—I have to be honest about something.” Ladybug takes a deep breath, and then she looks up at Chat, her eyes full of an emotion he can’t place. “We’ve both come close to getting akumatized.”

The word _akumatized_ hangs in the air, like a strange term that Chat has never heard before. Because he hasn’t, really. Not like this.

As far as he knows, he and Ladybug have never been targeted by Le Papillon. The closest he can think of is Heroes’ Day, when their nemesis sent a whole army of butterflies after them and everyone else—or maybe Miracle Queen, when those wasps very nearly stung him and Ladybug. But something tells Chat that’s not what Ladybug is talking about.

Something icy pricks his lungs, and he struggles to take a full breath. Ladybug said she had to be honest—which means she knows something he doesn’t.

“What happened?” Chat murmurs.

Ladybug’s eyes slip away from his. “There was one time I didn’t control my emotions, as a civilian. And he—I felt him in my head. I don’t remember what made him leave, but…it wasn’t me. I wasn’t strong enough to make him go away.”

Chat is speechless. Normally, he knows exactly what to say to encourage Ladybug—but he never would have imagined that she could be targeted by Le Papillon.

His brave, determined, optimistic partner. How could _she_ get akumatized? What could have happened, to make her so vulnerable?

“It was something stupid,” Ladybug mutters, as if she’s read his mind. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay.” Chat swallows, and it’s as if the ice in his chest has spread to his throat. “And—and you said…we?”

Ladybug doesn’t respond, and he wonders if she’s heard him. Then he sees a tear slip down her mask, and another—and before he can count any more, she throws herself forward, arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

Chat finds himself clinging to her as well. He’s not sure _why_ he’s suddenly terrified, but there’s cold dread in every centimeter of his veins. Something happened that he doesn’t know about; it’s something that aches now, a scar he doesn’t even remember getting.

“You’re scaring me,” he whispers.

“I’m sorry,” Ladybug says. “I—I’m still not ready to tell you. It didn’t actually happen. And I—I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure it never happens.”

Tears pool in Chat’s eyes. He can’t remember the last time he was this afraid. Not even the time that Ladybug leapt into the jaws of a T-rex, and he thought he had lost her; or the time when he was four years old, and he thought a thunderstorm was going to kill him.

He almost got akumatized. Or he did, and Ladybug saved him—but then, wouldn’t the rest of Paris remember? Wouldn’t he have seen that on the news, at some point?

“Why doesn’t anyone remember?” Chat asks. That seems like a safe question, at least. “Why don’t I?”

“Time travel,” Ladybug mumbles. “The Chat Noir who got akumatized doesn’t exist anymore. And he never will.”

“Okay,” Chat says, steadying himself. He leans back and cups Ladybug’s face in his hands, wiping away her tears with his thumbs, careful not to prick her with his claws. “Okay. So you’re worried about one of us getting akumatized, if we know each other’s identities?”

“I’m sorry,” Ladybug says. She inhales deeply through her nose, breath hitching slightly. “I didn’t mean to scare you. But, yes. If Le Papillon comes after me again, and I don’t manage to resist him, I don’t want to put you in danger.”

“Do you think, maybe…we could use time travel, to undo _that?”_ Chat asks. “I mean, if Bunnix did it when I got akumatized—”

“It’s different,” Ladybug says. “That was—she had to. I think the world would be okay if I got akumatized. She wouldn’t have to intervene.”

A shudder goes through Chat. He suspects that his akumatization was more terrible than Ladybug’s letting on, but right now, he doesn’t want to know. “Understood,” he says. “So, no identity reveal. I’m okay with that.”

“Not…necessarily,” Ladybug says. “Even though I’m the Guardian now, you should have access to the Miracle Box, too. If we need to give out a Miraculous during a battle, I might not always have the chance to swing away, and you should have an easy way to get back-up. That’s why I brought the box tonight, actually—I want to show you the code.” She ducks her head, avoiding Chat’s eyes. “And maybe it’s selfish, but I meant what I said before. I want you in my life at all times, even when I’m not transformed.”

“Is this your way of asking me for my number?” Chat asks, with a hint of amusement.

“No.” Ladybug shakes her head. “I’m not sure what I’m suggesting. I—you found out my identity in the other timeline, but I don’t think that’s what caused you to get akumatized. So…if…”

Chat tilts his head to the side, trying to catch Ladybug’s eyes—but she turns her head, and one of her pigtails whips his face. “My lady?”

“I’m scared to make a mistake,” Ladybug murmurs. “But I’m also afraid that if I don’t tell you who I am, then…” She finally looks up at him, eyes gleaming. “Then what if something happens, and I lose my memory, and you never find me?” Her hands slide up to grip Chat’s arms, fingers digging into him. “I know I insisted that we keep our identities secret, but I never meant for that to be a permanent thing. I wanted us to meet without the masks, eventually. Except now I’m the Guardian, and I don’t know if that means that—that one day…”

Chat squeezes his eyes shut, willing tears not to form. It’s the very question he won’t let himself ask—the what-if that makes his chest tighten and his vision swim whenever it crosses his mind.

“Even if I forget everything,” Ladybug says, “I still want you by my side.”

“Are you sure?” Chat asks, even as his voice shakes a bit. “Or will you call the police on the strange cat-man following you around?”

“I would never,” Ladybug says. “Remember Oblivio? I don’t need memories to…um…”

Hesitantly, Chat cracks an eye open. He technically doesn’t _remember_ Oblivio—but Alya’s photo of their kiss is ingrained in his mind. “To use a teapot?”

“To love you,” Ladybug says.

Chat’s eyes fly open. It’s the second time she’s said it, and the words are still just as surprising to him. “I—uh—that’s—I mean, you don’t know that. Maybe we read a Ladyblog article, and thought we were dating—”

“I would never kiss someone I don’t have feelings for,” Ladybug says, her eyes narrowed. “Even without memories, I wouldn’t let a blog article tell me that I love someone.”

“B-but—uh…” Chat’s tongue gets tangled up, and he laughs nervously. “You don’t want to kiss me _now.”_

Ladybug’s eyes flick away, and her cheeks flush a deep pink.

“Um.” Chat peers down at her. He’s never gotten this sort of response before. “Wait. Do you?” When Ladybug doesn’t respond right away, he runs a hand through his hair. “Ah, forget I said that. I shouldn’t pry! I’m obviously making you uncomfortable. Say, maybe we should go get some ice cream or something? Not André’s ice cream, of course. Just…normal platonic ice cream. With friendship sprinkles. And an, uh, unromantic cherry on top.”

He slaps a hand against his face and leaves it there, hoping that if he can’t see Ladybug, she can’t see him (because obviously that’s how it works).

A moment later, Ladybug giggles. “How could I not, when you say things like that?”

Chat peeks through his fingers at Ladybug. Her eyes are still rimmed red from tears, but now they’re crinkled with a smile, scrunching up the freckles on her cheeks. She laughs again, and he finds a smile of his own tugging at his lips, even as his mind spins with confusion.

Ladybug, wanting to kiss him? Chat can’t help but wonder if this is actually another sentimonstre, or illusion, or wax statue. Somehow, those things would make more sense.

Her laughter ebbs, and she shakes her head. “Chat,” she says, taking one of his hands. “Besides my parents, you’re the most important person in my life.”

 _You are, too,_ Chat wants to say, but instead he blurts out, “Is this real?”

Ladybug tilts her head to the side. “Is this—oh.” Her mouth twists in a frown. “I guess this _does_ sound like something a fake would say.”

“No, no!” Chat says. He cups her cheek with his free hand. “I didn’t mean to imply that. I know you’re real. It’s just, one second we’re talking about whether we should reveal our identities, and then you’re telling me that you love me and want to kiss me—”

“I didn’t say I want to kiss you!” Ladybug says, her eyes wide. “I—I…um.” Smiling sheepishly, she hunches her shoulders. “I guess I kind of did, though.”

“There are worse things,” Chat says wryly.

Ladybug rolls her eyes, and he feels slightly less bad for flustering her. “The two things are connected, I guess. I’m trying to sort out my feelings, and I thought that maybe if you could be part of my civilian life, the way the other boy is...”

As much as Chat hates to disagree, he finds himself saying, “I’m not sure that’s a good reason.”

“I know,” Ladybug groans. She lets her forehead fall onto Chat’s shoulder, and he wraps an arm around her, hand rubbing up and down her back. “It’s not the only reason, but…you’re right.”

Chat fiddles with one of her hair ribbons, wondering if it’s part of some cat-like instinct to paw at things. “You don’t have to reveal your identity to be closer to me.”

“I know. I just want to…I don’t know.” Ladybug leans back with a frown. “What do you want?”

A hundred answers threaten to tumble from Chat’s mouth, and he swallows them down, along with all the icy fear from earlier. “Um, if I say _whatever you want—”_

“Chat. What do _you_ want?”

The answers return to Chat’s tongue— _like a hairball,_ he stupidly thinks—and he presses his lips together. “Mm. Hm…mm.”

“Use your words, minou,” Ladybug says, tapping his nose. “I’m not a mind reader.”

“Considering you’ve stolen a few of my puns before I could say them,” Chat says, “I think you might be.” 

“Ah, so your mouth is working again.” Ladybug smiles and leans forward slightly, her freckles close enough to kiss. “So?”

“I don’t know,” Chat says, looking away. “I think I’ve already embarrassed myself enough.”

“I’m not going to laugh.”

Chat’s eyes dart back to her. “Right. Um…” He feels his cheeks heat, but the earnest look on Ladybug’s face makes it easier to speak. “I want us to be able to tell each other about our days. Of course, there are things I can’t talk about, and I’m sure it’s the same for you, but…uh…”

“Keep going.”

“If you’re upset,” Chat says, his voice trembling, “I—I want to hold you, and comfort you, like I just did.”

“And you want me to do the same, right?”

“Right.” Chat laughs shakily. “And if something good happens, even if I don’t know what it is, I want to celebrate it with you.”

“Hm,” Ladybug says. “Well, I got an A on my math test the other day.”

Grinning, Chat says, “So did I.”

“But is that really worth celebrating?” Ladybug asks. “You _did_ say you were at the top of your class, you know.”

“So my accomplishments mean nothing to you, my lady?” Chat asks, his lips still stretched in a smile. “I’m wounded.”

“Try something else, chaton.”

Chat frowns, considering. He can’t exactly mention photoshoots or magazines without compromising his identity—and besides, he isn’t really proud of those things. “I won a tournament earlier this month.”

“Let me guess. Video games?”

“No. Something athletic,” Chat says.

“Ooh,” Ladybug says. She pokes one of his biceps. “So those _are_ muscles I’ve been seeing.”

Chat snorts. “I guess I know why you want to kiss me.”

“That has almost nothing to do with it.”

“Almost?”

Ladybug crosses her arms and scowls. “They’re nice biceps.”

Usually, Chat wouldn’t have trouble flirting in response—but it’s different, now that he knows Ladybug loves him. He laughs awkwardly, face still burning with a blush. “Um, thanks. I…do a few sports.” 

Ladybug’s hands drop to her knees again, and Chat tentatively places his on top of them. “It’s funny,” she says. “I want to ask which sports, but I’m so used to keeping my questions to myself. It feels like I’m doing something wrong if I ask.”

“You can ask,” Chat murmurs.

“Right.” Ladybug nods slowly. “So…what’s one of the sports you do?”

“I fence,” Chat says. “I guess that’s probably the most obvious one.”

Ladybug’s eyebrows lift slightly. “That does make sense. It never occurred to me, though.”

“What about you, my lady?” Chat asks. “What sports do _you_ do?”

“Does tripping down stairs count?”

“Oh, dear,” Chat says. “Is someone a klutz?”

“Maybe,” Ladybug mutters, her cheeks turning red. “I, um…I’m not really a sports person. I’m more of an artist.”

“You _are_ pretty creative,” Chat says. “I’m sure you make beautiful things.”

A moment passes where neither of them says anything. Without thinking, Chat reaches up to play with one of her pigtails, and Ladybug rolls her eyes in response.

“So,” Chat finally says. “Talking to you, or comforting you, or supporting you—I don’t think I have to know your identity for any of that.” 

“You don’t?” Ladybug echoes. “But don’t you want to know those things completely, instead of ambiguous answers? I mean, I can’t tell you about my specific projects, or accolades, or show you things I’ve worked on. Don’t you want to hear about all of that?”

“I want to be there for you,” Chat says. Ladybug’s hair slips through his fingers, and he wishes he could feel the softness through his gloves. _Maybe one day._ “In any way I can. If that’s only with masks, that’s fine. It doesn’t change anything.” 

He’s startled when Ladybug reaches up and presses her palms to his cheeks, her gloved hands warm against his skin. “Do you want to know my identity?”

“I don’t need to,” Chat says, surprising himself with the words.

Once, he’d been so intent on learning who Ladybug was, and he never thought he’d pass up the chance to discover her identity. But when he says he doesn’t need to know, he means it; he can’t imagine her real name making a difference.

“Oh.” Ladybug blinks, and her hands start to slip from his face. “Okay.”

Chat catches her wrists. “Do you want to tell me?”

“I don’t know,” Ladybug says, nose wrinkled. “Yes? Or, at some point. Sooner rather than later. I don’t want a reveal to catch us off-guard.”

“It might be nice if the reveal isn’t a surprise,” Chat says. He doubts Ladybug would react too strongly to discovering his civilian identity, but it would certainly be easier if she didn’t find out mid-battle. “I’d prefer it to be something quiet. Like this.”

“So you _do_ want to know?”

“Eventually.” Chat matches his palms to hers and interlaces their fingers. “I guess I only have one other question, then.”

“And that is…?”

He smirks. “Do you still want to kiss me?”

Squawking, Ladybug jerks back, but Chat tightens his hold on their joined hands. “Chat!” she says, her entire face scarlet. “What happened to the friendship sundae with unromantic sprinkles?”

“Actually, it was platonic ice cream with friendship sprinkles,” Chat says. “Do you really forget my words so easily, my lady?”

Ladybug sighs. “We already kissed, you know. After defeating Oblivio.”

“Neither one of us remembers that.”

“It still happened.”

“Did it?” Chat asks, grinning and leaning forward. “Or is it like _, if a tree falls in the forest, and—”_

“And Alya is around to photograph it?” Ladybug asks, with a smile. “Nice try.”

“Alas. I suppose my biceps weren’t alluring enough.”

Ladybug squeezes his hands. “I didn’t say no.”

“So you _do_ want to kiss me?”

“Eventually.”

Chat smiles and presses forward, until his nose brushes against Ladybug’s. “Sooner rather than later?” 

Ladybug laughs. “Don’t push it, tomcat.”

“It’s fine,” Chat says, as his smile grows wider. “I’m not in a hurry. I have nine lives, after all.”

Pulling away slightly, Ladybug mumbles something that he can’t make out.

“Hm?” Chat asks. “I’m afraid I didn’t quite catch that.”

“I—I asked if you were planning to spend all nine of them with me.”

Chat’s heart thumps in his chest. “I certainly hope so.” He laughs. “But that’s a pretty cheesy pickup line, even for me.”

“I like your dumb pickup lines,” Ladybug says. “And your puns. And your smile, and the twirly thing you do with your baton, and the way you eat ice cr—”

Chat interrupts with a finger against her lips. Ladybug blinks, wide-eyed. “S-sorry,” Chat says, blushing. “You’ll have to stop there, or, um…”

Ladybug raises an eyebrow.

“I don’t know,” Chat says. “I might want to kiss you even more. Or I might cry. Or both.”

He lowers his hand, and Ladybug’s mouth curves in a smile. Slowly, deliberately, she leans forward and presses her lips to his cheek.

Chat’s eyes flutter shut, and his cheek tingles with warmth where Ladybug’s lips touch. He’s pretty sure he makes an embarrassing _eep_ noise, because when Ladybug pulls away, she laughs.

“Maybe you _are_ going to cry if I kiss you,” she teases, eyes glinting.

“No,” Chat says, his voice a bit too high. “Th-the only sound I’ll make will be, um…” He trails off, not sure where to take the comeback. Pouting, he says, “Okay, but if I do, you won’t laugh at me, right? It’s okay for boys to be emotional, you know.”

“Chat,” Ladybug says, one of her hands cupping his face. “I know that. And of course I wouldn’t laugh.” She leans forward, a smirk tugging at her lips. “That said, maybe you should start practicing on your pillow. Just to build up some tolerance.”

“Bold of you to assume I don’t do that already.”

Ladybug’s features twist quizzically, and she bursts out laughing. “Did you really want to admit that?”

Chat feels like his face has just been set on fire. “I don’t think I did.”

Lips pressed together, Ladybug laughs. “It’s okay,” she says. “But I apologize in advance if your pillow is a better kisser than I am.”

Chat glares at her. “That’s it,” he says. “When I drool on my pillow tonight, I’m pretending it’s you.”

“What!” Ladybug shrieks, shoving his chest. “Rude.”

“Maybe you should start randomly dumping water on yourself. _Just to build up some tolerance.”_

“Ugh,” Ladybug says. “I should have figured you’d be one of those cats who drools when he’s happy.”

Chat sticks out his tongue in response.

Ladybug giggles, but after a moment, her smile fades. “Things are going to be different now.”

“I suppose,” Chat says. “But one thing is the same.”

“Is this another joke about how I need to update my suit?”

“No,” Chat says, “but, for the record, you do.” He laughs as Ladybug makes a face. “What I was going to say was, we’re still partners. No matter what happens, that won’t change.”

Ladybug nods. “I—I’m glad.” She surges forward, arms wrapping around Chat in a hug. “I’m lucky to have you as my partner. I could never do this without you, and I won’t. None of it.”

“But, I mean, being the Guardian…?” Chat tilts his head to the side. “You’ll have to do some of that without me, right?”

“Nope,” Ladybug says, pulling back just enough to look him in the eyes. “I just told you, I’m not doing anything without you. I might technically be the Guardian, but I want you to be in on everything. The Miraculouses, the potions, the history…all of it. Including my identity, one day.”

“All the work, and none of the glory?” Chat says. “I don’t know. This kind of sounds like one of those unpaid internships.”

“On the contrary,” Ladybug says. “I’ll pay you in pastries. And…maybe a kiss or two.”

“Just a kiss or two, for sharing the crushing responsibility of Guardianship?” Chat asks. “I hope you’re paying me with a lot of food, to compensate.”

“Of course. In fact, I’ll start payments at our next patrol.”

“Hm.” Chat brushes Ladybug’s bangs out of her face. “And is that first payment going to be a pastry, or…?”

Ladybug’s lips quirk in a smile. “You’ll have to wait and see.” Her expression softens. “Thank you, Chat. For being there for me, and…and for caring about me.”

“You don’t have to thank me for any of that.” Chat lets his face tilt forward, until their foreheads are touching. “But thank you for trusting me, and putting up with me. I couldn’t ask for a better partner.”

“I could have been better,” Ladybug murmurs.

Chat shrugs. “So could I.” He smiles. “However, there’s one thing I’m very good at, and that’s loving you. I consider myself an expert, at this point.”

“Well, I hope you don’t mind taking me on as your apprentice,” Ladybug says, “because I want to support you the same way you support me.”

Closing his eyes, focusing on the places their bodies touch, Chat wonders how Ladybug can’t see it. She’s always been the brightest part of his day—while his home is cold and empty, she’s warm and full of love. With her, every breath is lighter, every laugh freer, and Chat knows that he doesn’t have to fake smiles or mince words.

“You do,” Chat says. “Maybe not in the same way, but I promise, you do.”

Ladybug shifts so that she’s kneeling, and then her arms wrap around him again, hugging him close. With her chest pressed against his, Chat feels every breath she takes. He finds himself matching the breaths, his nose digging into her hair as he inhales the faint scent of her shampoo.

“We’ll figure it out,” Ladybug says. It almost sounds like a question.

“That’s right,” Chat murmurs, his hold on her tightening. “It might take a while, but we will. We always have.”

As he says it, he realizes he needs the words as much as she does. He’s been lost, these past few days, and part of him had hoped that Ladybug would know exactly what to do. Learning that she doesn’t, though—that only makes him more determined to stand by her, and figure out what to do next.

“We can do this,” he says, and Ladybug repeats his words in a whisper.


End file.
